This may be a difficult post for some to read, but it's one that has been percolating in my mind for a few days and one that I needed to write. Writing helps me sort through my thoughts, and this was something I needed to sort. So I hope you won't mind reading.
In both birthwork and bereavement work we often do something we refer to as "holding space." It means that there is not anything particular we are doing or saying (sometimes not anything we can do or say) in the situation, but we stand as sentinel over the space. We protect the peace, the calm, the energy, the emotions, and the simple right to feel.
Over the years I have held space for grieving mothers: sometimes in
person but more often in virtual space, via phone or instant messages
with someone geographically distant but emotionally close. Similarly I have held space for friends and family members as they labor through the delivery of a child or through any difficult time.
I have also held space for my children on many occasions; holding a small one on my lap and surrounding him with the calm of my arms and my breathing, and giving him permission to feel what he feels, and also giving my support in getting through it.
In recent days I have come to recognize the need--and value--for holding space in another way.
My paternal grandfather's health declined sharply a few months ago. He moved in with my aunt so that she could help care for him, and we have all been aware that he would not live much longer. Early last week we learned that he had stopped eating, so we knew to count time in days.
Meanwhile, my maternal grandmother has been dealing with multiple health issues for many years, and in the last few years her hospital stays have increased in frequency, duration, and complexity. A couple of weeks ago she entered the hospital, and within a few days it became apparent that this time was more severe than others had been. Last Thursday her doctor said she probably had a week left.
Last Friday my grandfather passed away. His funeral was on Wednesday.
On Tuesday my grandmother came home under hospice care, to spend her last few days with her spouse in the home they had built and lived in together. My mother was there with her, and said that grandma sat at the window and looked out at the trees that they had planted and raised together, and seemed to be at peace. She had some good hours, and got to spend her 58th anniversary in the arms of her sweetheart and with family by her side. Today she passed on.
I had neither the money nor the scheduling flexibility to visit my grandparents in their final days, nor have it now to attend their funerals. I think they will not mind, seeing as how funerals are for the living rather than the deceased. I had time to send letters, call and communicate my love, and I am grateful for the time we had to do that. Now their spirits are free of the worn out bodies that had held them back, and all I can do is hold space.
This is a different kind of space-holding from what I have done before. My grandparents are no longer here, and do not need me to hold the space for them; instead I must hold it for myself. I must allow myself to feel--whatever I feel--without judgment or guilt. I can hold their memories, carrying them onward by sharing them with my family. I must allow myself to be quiet, to rest, to think, to cry, and to be not-my-best-or-brightest at some things for a while. I must also allow myself to laugh and play and carry on, because the cycles of life continue always.
Showing posts with label miscarriage/infant loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage/infant loss. Show all posts
Friday, March 25, 2016
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Rising Water
This morning I was browsing pinterest and this photo caught my eye:
It got me to thinking about rocks; specifically about wet rocks...
More than once I've sat on the shore of a body of water and noticed how different a rock can look when it's wet as compared to when it's dry.
In every case, the change I have observed is that the wet rock is prettier. Its natural features of stripes or speckles or color variation (or even just its natural color) are enhanced and given definition by the presence of water.
When they are dry, the rocks all look more or less alike, but when they are wet they are unique.
My husband found a large pretty stone in a river last summer and wanted to bring it home for our garden, but once it dried out it became quite dull. He has actually decided that he'd like to put some kind of lacquer on it so that it will maintain its 'wet' look even when not submerged. Because it's a better or more appealing rock when it is paired with water.
Water is, in many senses, the antithesis of stone. Stone is simple, solid, stable, and more or less immoveable. Water is fluid and flowing, changeable, and sensitive to its surroundings.
The only way for a rock to maintain the beauty of the water is for it to be submersed repeatedly or at length. In other words, it is immersion in opposition that creates the beauty.
In longer spans of time water can change rock even more, by shaping and smoothing it through gradual erosion. I realize the metaphor here isn't perfect, but I did at least want to give a nod to the idea that it's not just about beauty or definition.
The point is that opposition, though unpleasant or even painful in the moment, can be beneficial or improving in the longer run. It can show us the best version of ourselves. It pushes us through the changes that refine us.
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Pebble Shore Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana, United States.
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It got me to thinking about rocks; specifically about wet rocks...
More than once I've sat on the shore of a body of water and noticed how different a rock can look when it's wet as compared to when it's dry.
In every case, the change I have observed is that the wet rock is prettier. Its natural features of stripes or speckles or color variation (or even just its natural color) are enhanced and given definition by the presence of water.
When they are dry, the rocks all look more or less alike, but when they are wet they are unique.
My husband found a large pretty stone in a river last summer and wanted to bring it home for our garden, but once it dried out it became quite dull. He has actually decided that he'd like to put some kind of lacquer on it so that it will maintain its 'wet' look even when not submerged. Because it's a better or more appealing rock when it is paired with water.
Water is, in many senses, the antithesis of stone. Stone is simple, solid, stable, and more or less immoveable. Water is fluid and flowing, changeable, and sensitive to its surroundings.
The only way for a rock to maintain the beauty of the water is for it to be submersed repeatedly or at length. In other words, it is immersion in opposition that creates the beauty.
In longer spans of time water can change rock even more, by shaping and smoothing it through gradual erosion. I realize the metaphor here isn't perfect, but I did at least want to give a nod to the idea that it's not just about beauty or definition.
The point is that opposition, though unpleasant or even painful in the moment, can be beneficial or improving in the longer run. It can show us the best version of ourselves. It pushes us through the changes that refine us.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Postpartum Anxiety. My Story.
Regular readers here will know that I had been through several miscarriages prior to my first live birth. I experienced a lot of depression during and after those, and credited it to grief, although I knew that there could be chemical components to it too. When I did realize I was going to carry to term with this one, I was shocked to find that I was still depressed. I was depressed for most of my pregnancy, in spite of being extremely excited that I was finally going to have a baby. I anticipated that I might have postpartum depression, and tried to have a support network in place just in case.
I have a family background of depression, bipolar, anxiety attacks, and even severe panic-induced breakdowns. But aside from the depression I mentioned here, I had never experienced any of those things myself. I'd never had an anxiety attack let alone chronic anxiety.
When my baby was born, I was jubilant. Our circumstances were actually really bad, my husband was working two jobs because we were broke, and it was the middle of winter. But I was not depressed. I was delighted to have a baby.
But I was terrified of hurting him. I have eight younger siblings and had been helping with babies for two decades before I had my own baby. I knew how to handle diapers and baths and feedings and all those things, and yet I still found myself feeling scared all the time. I was afraid that he would stop breathing in his sleep. I was afraid that as I laid him on the bed that his arm would twist under him and break as I set him down. When I had him in the sling as I made dinner, I was afraid that he would reach out and touch a pan or get cut on a knife or something before I could prevent it. I was terrified that he would get badly hurt and that it would be my fault. Not an accidental kind of fault, but a totally preventable kind of fault. None of these were rational fears, but they all ran around in my head on a daily basis.
I never told anyone. I assumed that I was paranoid about this baby because of the years of miscarriages and the waiting for him. Of course I was hyper-protective of this baby! And I could tell that they were irrational fears, so I didn't tell anyone because I felt stupid for having them. By the time he was about 6 months old they went away.
Three years later I had a second baby. I had not had difficulty conceiving or carrying him. The delivery had been straightforward and good. But I had experienced pregnancy depression again, and I had the postpartum fears again. This time I couldn't justify it to myself, because I didn't have the same set of circumstances coming in. I had HAD a baby before and everything had been fine with him. I couldn't think of why I would feel paranoid this time around, but I did. And it was the same things...stopping breathing, breaking his arm...knives in the kitchen...
Sometimes real things did happen. Like when he was 3 months old but had gotten strong enough that he kicked so hard that he tipped his bouncer over. He had been on the floor and was scared but not hurt. I was not much distressed by this, I comforted him, and just accepted that he had gotten too big for the bouncer and didn't use it anymore. But I was still scared that I would hurt him somehow.
Again, when he was a few months old it faded.
That baby was two when I listened to a podcast where a woman talked about having had postpartum anxiety. I had never even heard of such a thing. Her case had been so serious that she was institutionalized for several weeks (away from her baby). I was grateful that my anxiety was not that severe, but I also felt so validated in my experiences. I wished I had told someone. I wished I had known what it was. Now that I know (and it's only been a year that I've known) I have started telling people. Nobody should have to deal with this kind alone. It's scary and unnerving and it would have been nice to know that I wasn't crazy.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
February Blog Circle: The Calling
This month TAN is also holding a brief fundraiser (and there are some pretty nice perks if you donate). The board and doulas are all volunteers, but we need a little capital to cover things like web hosting and printing costs for the materials that we distribute. Please visit the fundraising site and help out if you can. Thank you.
When I was very first married, I had a church assignment to visit with another woman in my congregation. (This is typical for Mormons, every woman is assigned to visit other women, so that everyone has someone they can turn to if they need help or support with something, and everyone has someone to look out for.) I felt a connection with this particular woman because she was also a newlywed, having married just days after we had.
Less than four months into my marriage, I experienced my first miscarriage. Right around the same time, Michelle [not her real name] told us that she was also expecting. I was excited for her. Although I grieved my own loss, I never guessed that the road ahead of me would be so long and difficult. I assumed my next conception would be as easy as the first had been, and so I did not resent her pregnancy even in the face of my recent loss.
A few weeks later, I received word that Michelle had miscarried. As the timing worked out, she had miscarried in her early second trimester, just as I had. I baked something (I no longer remember what) and walked the few blocks to her home to deliver it to her. I also took a card in which I had written my sympathies, and shared some thoughts that had been comforting to me in my loss.
Her mother answered the door, and said that Michelle was in the shower. I delivered the card and food, explained who I was, and said that I was available to call if Michelle needed anyone.
She never called. I think her mother was sufficient support for her. Over the years (having long since moved away from the area), I had almost forgotten this story. But this week I remembered it, and I realized something: Although I would have said that it was supporting another friend through miscarriage in the summer of 2010 that instigated my desire to start The Amethyst Network, I actually began that path years before. Perhaps it is a matter of personality, perhaps a matter of being in the right place at the right time, but I realize that within weeks of my first miscarriage I was reaching out to support others through miscarriage. I think it is something I am called to do.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Holidays After Loss ~ Special Ornaments
Recently The Amethyst Network has been working on renovating and updating our site and our organization. One new project we are launching is monthly blog circles, where we put up a hosting post and invite other bloggers to share their post on the same theme. This month the theme is "Holidays After a Loss."
During the first Christmas after my first loss, I had recently become pregnant again, and was very morning sick and honestly not thinking very much about the 3-month-old that I didn't have. One year later, with several more miscarriages behind me, I felt it much more keenly. I wanted a way to keep those babies as part of our Christmas. I remembered that my mother had been given an angel ornament after Amethyst passed away, and I decided to follow suit. Our living children each have their own special ornament, and so I began to purchase angel ornaments for each of my angel children. I have known families who purchased a new angel each year, but I just got one angel per baby (since there were several). Other families might prefer something other than angels, but the idea could still apply as a way to memorialize our little ones, and to keep them as part of our holidays.
Here you can see some of mine.
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| customized with birthstone and name |
During the first Christmas after my first loss, I had recently become pregnant again, and was very morning sick and honestly not thinking very much about the 3-month-old that I didn't have. One year later, with several more miscarriages behind me, I felt it much more keenly. I wanted a way to keep those babies as part of our Christmas. I remembered that my mother had been given an angel ornament after Amethyst passed away, and I decided to follow suit. Our living children each have their own special ornament, and so I began to purchase angel ornaments for each of my angel children. I have known families who purchased a new angel each year, but I just got one angel per baby (since there were several). Other families might prefer something other than angels, but the idea could still apply as a way to memorialize our little ones, and to keep them as part of our holidays.
Here you can see some of mine.
(the ball has l.e.d. lights so the angel changes color...)
Go check out TAN's hosting post here for links to other articles, or to add your own link to the circle.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Between Worlds
Samhain
All Hallows Eve
All Saints Day and All Souls Day
the Day of the Dead
A time when the veil between worlds is believed to be thin, when those on the other side and those on this side can reach out toward one another, maybe even touch, and exist in the mindful space of knowing that life is eternal, relationships are eternal, and that these cycles will go on and on for always.
Many things are on my mind today...
Miscarriage and infant loss awareness month is just behind us and I have been working on projects for The Amethyst Network all month.
A friend who recently passed a due date for a baby who was stillborn two months ago
A friend who just found out she is pregnant (after multiple miscarriages)
A friend who is expecting a baby any day (after a difficult miscarriage almost exactly a year ago)
My own children who are not with me here, but who sometimes seem to reach out to hold my hand or pat my shoulder
My great great grandmother Juliette who made eye contact with me through a photo this summer and whom I have been trying to learn more about ever since
Many others who have crossed over to that side, whether prematurely or very maturely, and others who are on their way to this side...
Do they see us from their side as rarely as we see them from ours? Or is the veil a one-sided mirror, where they can see us easily, but except in fleeting moments we see only ourselves?
I do not know the ins and outs of life and death.One thing I do know is that the universe and the eternities are bigger than our little minds can know in this human form. I believe in a larger interconnectedness between all generations, all times, all eternities. I believe because of times like now, where the veil is thin and we catch a glimpse between the worlds.
I was thinking about jack o lanterns this morning. A very ordinary squash, but once a year we poke through the crust so that we can see what is inside. We carve a variety of shapes and for a variety of reasons, and then we set a light inside and behold, a simple squash becomes a lantern. When I look at one now I cannot help but think of looking through to a world beyond. I just got to like them a whole lot more.
All Hallows Eve
All Saints Day and All Souls Day
the Day of the Dead
A time when the veil between worlds is believed to be thin, when those on the other side and those on this side can reach out toward one another, maybe even touch, and exist in the mindful space of knowing that life is eternal, relationships are eternal, and that these cycles will go on and on for always.
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| One heart inside another, one generation inside another |
Miscarriage and infant loss awareness month is just behind us and I have been working on projects for The Amethyst Network all month.
A friend who recently passed a due date for a baby who was stillborn two months ago
A friend who just found out she is pregnant (after multiple miscarriages)
A friend who is expecting a baby any day (after a difficult miscarriage almost exactly a year ago)
My own children who are not with me here, but who sometimes seem to reach out to hold my hand or pat my shoulder
My great great grandmother Juliette who made eye contact with me through a photo this summer and whom I have been trying to learn more about ever since
Many others who have crossed over to that side, whether prematurely or very maturely, and others who are on their way to this side...
Do they see us from their side as rarely as we see them from ours? Or is the veil a one-sided mirror, where they can see us easily, but except in fleeting moments we see only ourselves?
I do not know the ins and outs of life and death.One thing I do know is that the universe and the eternities are bigger than our little minds can know in this human form. I believe in a larger interconnectedness between all generations, all times, all eternities. I believe because of times like now, where the veil is thin and we catch a glimpse between the worlds.
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| Interconnectedness |
I was thinking about jack o lanterns this morning. A very ordinary squash, but once a year we poke through the crust so that we can see what is inside. We carve a variety of shapes and for a variety of reasons, and then we set a light inside and behold, a simple squash becomes a lantern. When I look at one now I cannot help but think of looking through to a world beyond. I just got to like them a whole lot more.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Our Samhain
One of the things I love about living in Alaska is the wild meat we're able to hunt and butcher ourselves. It was actually on Mabon that we got a call from a neighbor who had some caribou they had shot but could not fit it all in their freezer, and they asked if we wanted some. So we spent our Mabon evening butchering and freezing caribou.
Since Samhain is a time of giving thanks for the harvest of meat (and showing gratitude for the animals' gift of their lives for our sustenance), I thought it was appropriate to eat some of our caribou tonight.
We had actually had a caribou roast just a few days ago, so instead of cooking another one, I chopped up the leftover meat, added in carrots, potatoes, broccoli, and peas, and poured over the leftover gravy to make a savory caribou pie.
Samhain is also a time to ponder on death, and to remember our loved ones or others who have died. I had planned to make "dead bread" but we had a last minute shuffle (something came up and with very little notice we ended up celebrating a night earlier than planned), so that fell through and it was just the pie.
However, we did do something to remember our departed loved ones, and that was to write messages or draw pictures for them, and put them in the fire so that the smoke could carry our love and thoughts to them. My husband wrote to his granddad who passed away this last year. I wrote to my babies who died before I was ever able to meet them. My sons all drew pictures.
Since Samhain is a time of giving thanks for the harvest of meat (and showing gratitude for the animals' gift of their lives for our sustenance), I thought it was appropriate to eat some of our caribou tonight.
We had actually had a caribou roast just a few days ago, so instead of cooking another one, I chopped up the leftover meat, added in carrots, potatoes, broccoli, and peas, and poured over the leftover gravy to make a savory caribou pie.
Samhain is also a time to ponder on death, and to remember our loved ones or others who have died. I had planned to make "dead bread" but we had a last minute shuffle (something came up and with very little notice we ended up celebrating a night earlier than planned), so that fell through and it was just the pie.
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| The boys drawing their pictures you can see our element candles and the remainder of the caribou pie... |
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Wave of Light
Join us tonight in lighting candles from 7-8pm (in your time zone),
in remembrance of infants lost before or after birth,
and of their families who miss them still.
Monday, July 11, 2011
30 Days--Day 14
Day 14 - A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without.
My Bear.
I love all my children, but Bear was my miracle baby after so many miscarriages.
There is something special about that.
His birth brought me a lot of healing, and his attachment to me during infancy and toddlerhood (while sometimes tiring) gave me a very fulfilling kind of motherhood.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Why Bad Things Happen to Good People
I've miscarried twice as many times as I've carried a baby to term. I don't know why my body does this. I've had a battery of tests done, and the results told us nothing. I have no idea how many times I have burst into tears and wailed to the sky "Why?!"
Why do bad things happen to us?
You know, the bad things that are not the natural consequences of choices, but the things that nobody has any control over: poverty, untimely deaths, chronic illness, famine, abuse...
One explanation I've often heard is that we cannot fully appreciate good if we have no bad to compare it to. I think that is part of it. I think that's why we get hangnails or ear infections or bang our funny bones. I think that's why we have disappointments and phobias. It's why some days are diamonds and some days are stones. But I don't think that anyone needs to feel starvation in order to be grateful for food--mere hunger for a few hours or a day can make a person glad of a meal. And I do think I treasure my children a little bit extra because of how difficult it was to get them here, but obviously mothers without angels also love their children very much. Opposition is just a little piece of the answer to this question.
I have come to the conclusion that the primary reason that bad things happen to good people is to make us more patient and compassionate with others.
In my youth I was very judgmental about couples who waited to have kids, because I knew we were supposed to multiply and replenish... now I realize that life is so much more complicated than that, and maybe they had good reason for waiting, and maybe they didn't want to wait but didn't have a choice. In my own case, with all my miscarriages, for the first 2 1/2 years of my marriage an outsider looking in would not have known what I was going through. They would merely have seen someone who wasn't having children. It's not unusual for a couple to wait a few years after marriage to have children. Unless we told someone what was going on, I'm sure that most people assumed our lack of babies was intentional. They had no idea of our pain. Now that I've been on the inside of a situation, I have learned to not judge, but to just love.
Could God stop the bad things? The pain and the sorrow and suffering in the world? I think so. I think He could. But I think He doesn't, so that we'll learn to be compassionate to our brothers and sisters in the world around us.
Have you learned yet?
Why do bad things happen to us?
You know, the bad things that are not the natural consequences of choices, but the things that nobody has any control over: poverty, untimely deaths, chronic illness, famine, abuse...
One explanation I've often heard is that we cannot fully appreciate good if we have no bad to compare it to. I think that is part of it. I think that's why we get hangnails or ear infections or bang our funny bones. I think that's why we have disappointments and phobias. It's why some days are diamonds and some days are stones. But I don't think that anyone needs to feel starvation in order to be grateful for food--mere hunger for a few hours or a day can make a person glad of a meal. And I do think I treasure my children a little bit extra because of how difficult it was to get them here, but obviously mothers without angels also love their children very much. Opposition is just a little piece of the answer to this question.
I have come to the conclusion that the primary reason that bad things happen to good people is to make us more patient and compassionate with others.
In my youth I was very judgmental about couples who waited to have kids, because I knew we were supposed to multiply and replenish... now I realize that life is so much more complicated than that, and maybe they had good reason for waiting, and maybe they didn't want to wait but didn't have a choice. In my own case, with all my miscarriages, for the first 2 1/2 years of my marriage an outsider looking in would not have known what I was going through. They would merely have seen someone who wasn't having children. It's not unusual for a couple to wait a few years after marriage to have children. Unless we told someone what was going on, I'm sure that most people assumed our lack of babies was intentional. They had no idea of our pain. Now that I've been on the inside of a situation, I have learned to not judge, but to just love.
Could God stop the bad things? The pain and the sorrow and suffering in the world? I think so. I think He could. But I think He doesn't, so that we'll learn to be compassionate to our brothers and sisters in the world around us.
Have you learned yet?
Friday, February 25, 2011
February 25, 1989
On February 24, 1989, a little seven-year-old girl sat in the corner of her parents' bedroom, waiting to see her sister be born. She had been waiting all day. The babysitter had taken her and her siblings away for several hours during the day with assurances that no, the baby would not be here for a while, they would not miss it. The little girl was nervous every minute that she was gone that everybody was wrong and that she WOULD miss it. She had been there for her brother's birth when she was three, but she really didn't remember anything except getting to hold a flashlight. Then another brother had come, but for some reason mommy and daddy had to leave in a van and she had to go with her sister and other brother to someone elses house for the night, and when she got home her brother was already born. All she really remembered of that was being asked whether she ever wet the bed before being settled in with her sister in someone's guest bed for the night. This time, she was not going to miss the birth!
I was not going to miss this one.
But babies like to take their time apparently. All the siblings were going to watch the baby come, but one by one they got sleepy and went off to bed. Just I remained. I was stubborn. More stubborn than my exhaustion. Two hours past bedtime...three... It was near midnight, and I don't remember feeling tired, but mom was tired and decided she was going to get into bed just for a little while. Dad and Grandma both promised me that they would come wake me when the baby was close to coming so that I could still be there. Frustrated and disappointed, I went downstairs and crawled into the hidabed with my sister (our bed having been given to Grandma).
As I snuggled in I realized how tired I really was. I suspect I would have dropped right off to sleep if, within minutes, I had not heard Grandma trying to hurry down the stairs on her arthritic knees "Jenni, come quick!"
I missed the birth. Apparently mom's laying on the waterbed was what it took to entice Amethyst to come earthside. I can't say I really blame her. I was miffed at missing her birth though...and by only five minutes!
Nine months later another sleep-deprived night saw Amy back out of this world. I missed most of that too. But if I missed her entrance and exit, I did not miss the months in between, and Amethyst was--is--a precious jewel in our family. Today would be her 22nd birthday.
My mother has an amethyst necklace. I have long thought that maybe I'd like a piece of jewelry with amethyst myself, but I had never really pursued it because, while I like purple, it's not a color I've usually worn very much. However, my recent work with The Amethyst Network, and subsequent learning about the meanings and attributes of the stone, solidified my desire for a pair of amethyst earrings (I picked earrings because I wear them more than any other type of jewelry). Plus I have two purple shirts now. ☺
I had some Christmas gift money so I started looking around etsy, and found these Amethyst hearts.
They are perfect.
I was not going to miss this one.
But babies like to take their time apparently. All the siblings were going to watch the baby come, but one by one they got sleepy and went off to bed. Just I remained. I was stubborn. More stubborn than my exhaustion. Two hours past bedtime...three... It was near midnight, and I don't remember feeling tired, but mom was tired and decided she was going to get into bed just for a little while. Dad and Grandma both promised me that they would come wake me when the baby was close to coming so that I could still be there. Frustrated and disappointed, I went downstairs and crawled into the hidabed with my sister (our bed having been given to Grandma).
As I snuggled in I realized how tired I really was. I suspect I would have dropped right off to sleep if, within minutes, I had not heard Grandma trying to hurry down the stairs on her arthritic knees "Jenni, come quick!"
I missed the birth. Apparently mom's laying on the waterbed was what it took to entice Amethyst to come earthside. I can't say I really blame her. I was miffed at missing her birth though...and by only five minutes!
Nine months later another sleep-deprived night saw Amy back out of this world. I missed most of that too. But if I missed her entrance and exit, I did not miss the months in between, and Amethyst was--is--a precious jewel in our family. Today would be her 22nd birthday.
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| my sister Amethyst |
My mother has an amethyst necklace. I have long thought that maybe I'd like a piece of jewelry with amethyst myself, but I had never really pursued it because, while I like purple, it's not a color I've usually worn very much. However, my recent work with The Amethyst Network, and subsequent learning about the meanings and attributes of the stone, solidified my desire for a pair of amethyst earrings (I picked earrings because I wear them more than any other type of jewelry). Plus I have two purple shirts now. ☺
I had some Christmas gift money so I started looking around etsy, and found these Amethyst hearts.
They are perfect.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Pregnancy After Miscarriage
After a miscarriage, some couples do not want to think about babies for a while, but many want to try to conceive again right away. Here are a few thoughts based on my own experiences, and on things that friends have shared with me.
1--Be honest about why you do (or do not) want to get pregnant again right away. It may be a manifestation of denial--wanting to hurry up and be pregnant again so that you can pretend that you were never 'unpregnant.' You may carry the hope that conceiving again will help heal the loss. I can say from experience that a new pregnancy may help distract you from the loss, but unless you are well on the way to healing already it will not magically fix anything.
If you do not want to get pregnant, is it a product of fear, or simply a desire to wait? It's important to be sensitive to your spouse's feelings and desires too. I don't think there is any one right answer, and certainly not a simple one, but realize that both perspectives are valid.
2--Realize that being pregnant after having miscarried is a scary thing for most of us. There is an ever present fear of miscarrying again. Women who have never lost a baby may have some concerns about miscarriage, but they do not compare to when you have actually been there before. We tend to fixate on every little thing as either a sign that all is well, or a sign that we're about to miscarry again. For example, vaginal moisture is common in pregnancy, but after having lost babies I found myself running to the bathroom six times a day to check and make sure that what I was feeling wasn't blood. When I began to feel better from my morning sickness, I was terrified that it might mean that I was about to lose the baby.
3--Consider your timing. Different providers give different advice. My first OB told me that we should abstain from procreative activities for so long as I was bleeding, and then use preventative measures until after I had had at least one normal period. Essentially his advice was to let my body figure out that it is not pregnant before trying to get it pregnant again.
I have also heard the recommendation that after a baby you should wait for a time equal to (or longer than) the length of the pregnancy. So after a full-term baby you should wait 9 months, after a 13wk miscarriage you should wait 3 months, after a 5wk miscarriage you should wait at least a month, and so on.
On the other hand, I have heard many midwives and mothers say that that first ovulation after miscarriage (in other words, before that 'one normal period') is particularly fertile, and that if you really want to get pregnant again then you should try right away. I believe the theory is that the body doesn't figure out that it's not pregnant, and is therefore more welcoming of a new embryo. I don't know if there is any science to that or if it's just an old wives tale, but I do know an awful lot of women--including myself--who have conceived in the first month following a miscarriage.
1--Be honest about why you do (or do not) want to get pregnant again right away. It may be a manifestation of denial--wanting to hurry up and be pregnant again so that you can pretend that you were never 'unpregnant.' You may carry the hope that conceiving again will help heal the loss. I can say from experience that a new pregnancy may help distract you from the loss, but unless you are well on the way to healing already it will not magically fix anything.
If you do not want to get pregnant, is it a product of fear, or simply a desire to wait? It's important to be sensitive to your spouse's feelings and desires too. I don't think there is any one right answer, and certainly not a simple one, but realize that both perspectives are valid.
2--Realize that being pregnant after having miscarried is a scary thing for most of us. There is an ever present fear of miscarrying again. Women who have never lost a baby may have some concerns about miscarriage, but they do not compare to when you have actually been there before. We tend to fixate on every little thing as either a sign that all is well, or a sign that we're about to miscarry again. For example, vaginal moisture is common in pregnancy, but after having lost babies I found myself running to the bathroom six times a day to check and make sure that what I was feeling wasn't blood. When I began to feel better from my morning sickness, I was terrified that it might mean that I was about to lose the baby.
3--Consider your timing. Different providers give different advice. My first OB told me that we should abstain from procreative activities for so long as I was bleeding, and then use preventative measures until after I had had at least one normal period. Essentially his advice was to let my body figure out that it is not pregnant before trying to get it pregnant again.
I have also heard the recommendation that after a baby you should wait for a time equal to (or longer than) the length of the pregnancy. So after a full-term baby you should wait 9 months, after a 13wk miscarriage you should wait 3 months, after a 5wk miscarriage you should wait at least a month, and so on.
On the other hand, I have heard many midwives and mothers say that that first ovulation after miscarriage (in other words, before that 'one normal period') is particularly fertile, and that if you really want to get pregnant again then you should try right away. I believe the theory is that the body doesn't figure out that it's not pregnant, and is therefore more welcoming of a new embryo. I don't know if there is any science to that or if it's just an old wives tale, but I do know an awful lot of women--including myself--who have conceived in the first month following a miscarriage.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Amethyst Network
It is official, the website is up and running.And I am tired, but very very pleased.
Please, take a look! (click the image)
THANK YOU!
♥ to my fellow founders Kimberlee, Molly, Jena, and Michelle. I could not have done this alone.
♥ to the several etsians who have agreed to donate portions of their sales to TAN.
♥ to my awesome brother for designing this logo.
♥ to anyone who has 'liked' us on facebook or followed us on twitter.
♥ to each of the doulas and mothers (aka peer doulas) who has signed up to join the network.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Being Aware; It's Not All Pink
I was a guest author over at LDS WAVE today.
click here to read the rest
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. This is a fact widely acknowledged in the media and everybody seems to get on board with everything from all-night cancer walks to facebook status games. My grandmother is one of those “1 in 8 women” who has been diagnosed with breast cancer, as are dear family friends, and I have joined those all-night walks and regularly remind my blog-readers to do their self breast exams.
However, October after October, I notice that the flood of awareness is decidedly (and almost exclusively) pink. It seems that we either overlook or are unaware of the many other “Awareness Months” going on in October.
Yes, 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime. However 1 in 4 women will experience a miscarriage or infant loss, and 1 in 3 will be a victim of domestic violence...
click here to read the rest
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
NOT just "like a heavy period"
I have heard lots of people say that "a miscarriage is basically just like a heavy period."
That is simply not true. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't be fooled by it.
A miscarriage that occurs in the first few weeks of pregnancy may have the physical characteristics of a menstrual period: several days of cramping and bleeding. It might even seem like a 'normal' period to some women. A woman who didn't know that she was pregnant might even mistake a miscarriage for a period. All the same, if the woman knew she was pregnant, then even these early and physically easy miscarriages may carry an emotional toll that a regular menstrual period does not.
Some mothers really do have a miscarriage that is just like a period. For whatever reason, they do not grieve, or do not grieve very much. If you are one of those mothers you should not feel guilty about it, nor feel that your miscarriage was any less than someone elses. However this experience seems to happen in the minority of cases.
I miscarried this baby at 5 weeks gestation, and physically the process was like a textbook menstrual period. It was not the same as my normal periods which was one of the reasons I knew it was a miscarriage, but to another woman it could have been completely normal. However, if you read what I wrote at the time, it is obvious that my emotional state was not "just like a period" at all. I was grieving.
Somewhere between 6-10 weeks another change occurs. It varies from woman to woman and even from pregnancy to pregnancy, but somewhere in there the baby gets large enough that the physical process of miscarriage stops being like a period, and starts being more like labor. The uterus must contract and the cervix must open in order to expel the baby and placenta and other "products of conception."
When I experienced my first miscarriage I was 14 1/2 weeks along. I labored on and off for almost a full day, but had no idea what was going on. I thought I had intestinal gas, but hindsight tells me that it was actually labor contractions. I knew that a full-term stillborn baby would require labor and delivery, but I had never guessed that a baby only 4 inches long might also require labor.
It is my understanding (and my experience) that the labor of miscarriage is often shorter than a full-term labor would be, because a smaller baby can be delivered with less cervical dilation and pushing. Some women feel that it is something like the "first half" of labor. Others feel that it is very comparable to laboring with a full-term child.
This is one of those big unspoken secrets: many miscarriages are not like a heavy period, they are the labor and birthing of a baby.
That is simply not true. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't be fooled by it.
A miscarriage that occurs in the first few weeks of pregnancy may have the physical characteristics of a menstrual period: several days of cramping and bleeding. It might even seem like a 'normal' period to some women. A woman who didn't know that she was pregnant might even mistake a miscarriage for a period. All the same, if the woman knew she was pregnant, then even these early and physically easy miscarriages may carry an emotional toll that a regular menstrual period does not.
Some mothers really do have a miscarriage that is just like a period. For whatever reason, they do not grieve, or do not grieve very much. If you are one of those mothers you should not feel guilty about it, nor feel that your miscarriage was any less than someone elses. However this experience seems to happen in the minority of cases.
I miscarried this baby at 5 weeks gestation, and physically the process was like a textbook menstrual period. It was not the same as my normal periods which was one of the reasons I knew it was a miscarriage, but to another woman it could have been completely normal. However, if you read what I wrote at the time, it is obvious that my emotional state was not "just like a period" at all. I was grieving.
Somewhere between 6-10 weeks another change occurs. It varies from woman to woman and even from pregnancy to pregnancy, but somewhere in there the baby gets large enough that the physical process of miscarriage stops being like a period, and starts being more like labor. The uterus must contract and the cervix must open in order to expel the baby and placenta and other "products of conception."
When I experienced my first miscarriage I was 14 1/2 weeks along. I labored on and off for almost a full day, but had no idea what was going on. I thought I had intestinal gas, but hindsight tells me that it was actually labor contractions. I knew that a full-term stillborn baby would require labor and delivery, but I had never guessed that a baby only 4 inches long might also require labor.
It is my understanding (and my experience) that the labor of miscarriage is often shorter than a full-term labor would be, because a smaller baby can be delivered with less cervical dilation and pushing. Some women feel that it is something like the "first half" of labor. Others feel that it is very comparable to laboring with a full-term child.
This is one of those big unspoken secrets: many miscarriages are not like a heavy period, they are the labor and birthing of a baby.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Amethyst
I wrote here some time ago about my little sister, Amethyst, who died in infancy. Her death precipitated my mother's subsequent miscarriage, and was my first real experience with grief. 
As the founders of our miscarriage support network started discussing potential names for our organization, Amethyst's name came up. "The Amethyst Network" had a nice ring, and the name resonated with several of the founders because several of us had had due dates and/or miscarriages in February (amethyst is the February birthstone). We also liked the connection to valentine's day with the love we feel for our angel children. Purple and hearts seemed appropriate to symbolize our love and losses.
It is only now, after the name has been chosen and we are moving on to other aspects of the organization, that I thought to look up more information about the actual stone.
Amethyst "is a meditative and calming stone. It works in the emotional, spiritual, and physical planes to provide calm, balance, patience, and peace." It has been traditionally used to "help heal personal losses and grief. Amethyst has a gently sedative energy that promotes peacefulness, happiness, and contentment. It also brings emotional stability and inner strength" [link].
It seems the choice of name is even more appropriate than I could have guessed.
As the founders of our miscarriage support network started discussing potential names for our organization, Amethyst's name came up. "The Amethyst Network" had a nice ring, and the name resonated with several of the founders because several of us had had due dates and/or miscarriages in February (amethyst is the February birthstone). We also liked the connection to valentine's day with the love we feel for our angel children. Purple and hearts seemed appropriate to symbolize our love and losses.It is only now, after the name has been chosen and we are moving on to other aspects of the organization, that I thought to look up more information about the actual stone.
Amethyst "is a meditative and calming stone. It works in the emotional, spiritual, and physical planes to provide calm, balance, patience, and peace." It has been traditionally used to "help heal personal losses and grief. Amethyst has a gently sedative energy that promotes peacefulness, happiness, and contentment. It also brings emotional stability and inner strength" [link].
It seems the choice of name is even more appropriate than I could have guessed.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Stages of Grief in Miscarriage
My recent work on The Amethyst Network, as well as a series of conversations with other women have miscarried, has moved me to write about this. Many of us are familiar with the Kubler-Ross Grief Cycle. Initially it was 5 stages of grief, but has now been expanded into 7 stages. (The graph and excerpt here are taken from the link above)
One of the hardest things I experienced was that my husband and I often progressed through these stages at different rates, or in different ways. So he wanted to distract himself and avoid thinking about our baby at the time when I wanted to wallow in my grief and just talk about it... or he was angry at the world at a time when I was fixated on trying to just get pregnant again.
You should not feel pressured to grieve in a certain way, nor to be "all better" by a certain time. Each stage will manifest in different ways in different people, and in different kinds of circumstances, and things that are helpful for one person may not be helpful for another. However, here are some examples of how the various stages might manifest when grieving over miscarriage. (If you have something to add, please comment and I will add it here in the post.)
Shock
The news of fetal demise or the onset of physical miscarriage is overwhelming. It's common go to into an adrenaline-filled "fight or flight" mode, with moments of startling clarity (choosing whether or not to have a D&C, arranging babysitting for other children, or calling in sick to work). It's also common to completely freeze up and be unable to do or think anything. You may not be able to cry at this stage...or you may not be able to stop crying.
Denial
Trying to convince yourself that the baby didn't really die, or that you never were really pregnant. That something has been misdiagnosed. That you should get a second opinion, or a third. That if you just hurry and take the right herb or medication that everything will get better. This stage might also be called "Distraction," as some people (notably husbands) seek to avoid thinking about the loss. Sometimes this manifests in wanting to get pregnant again as soon as possible (as though you were always just pregnant). Sometimes it manifests in wanting to never get pregnant again.
Anger
Casting blame at anyone and anything that might possibly have contributed to the miscarriage. It's common to be angry at your spouse, with the rationale that they contributed the 'flaw' that caused the miscarriage, or that they are not supporting you in the way that you want them to. You might be angry at yourself, feeling that your body is broken because it did not keep the baby. You might be angry at the baby, or at God. You probably will be angry at anyone else in the world who has children, or babies, or is pregnant, or who takes those things for granted, or who has never lost a child. You will most likely be upset with anyone who is insensitive to you.
Bargaining
At this point it is normal to think about anything that you could change about the status quo, and to fixate on changing them. It's common to feel disgruntled about your marriage, to feel like if you had a different spouse things might be better (you might have more money or live in a nicer place or have more friends or better support or even, most literally, that procreating with a different partner might have avoided miscarriage). This stage may involve wanting to try to conceive again right away. You may try to 'make deals' with God (things like "I don't want to miscarry again so if I'm just going to miscarry then don't let me get pregnant again").
Depression
As the graph indicates, this is an inactive state. Many people feel lethargic when they are depressed. More than feeling 'sad' per se, they often simply feel nothing. It is common to withdraw from social activities--sometimes to avoid questions, possibly to avoid the possibility of feeling happy (many of us feel guilty over being happy about something, as though it indicates a lack of love for the child we are grieving).
Testing
Testing is the beginning of acceptance. I think it's something like learning to roller skate--with false starts and falling down. There are a few attempts to move into 'acceptance' and some of them will fail miserably, which will drop you back into depression or anger or some other stage, and then you'll have to push forward again. You may need some time to gather yourself before you feel ready to try again. Eventually however, with continued trying, you will reach the final stage of
Acceptance
This is what we refer to as 'healing.' As with any wound, there will be a scar. You will never return to being the way you were before the miscarriage, but you will find a new 'normal' and you will reach a point of being able to live life, get things done, and even be happy. You'll be able to hear pregnancy announcements, see pregnant women, or hold infants and not be depressed. You'll be able to look back at your loss without fixating on it, and you'll be able to look forward into the future, and to move into it. Sometimes people refer to this stage as 'closure' but it's broader than that. It's not closing the book on what happened, it is accepting and validating it, and moving forward with life anyway.
Sometimes things drop me back into grieving for my children (although the grief is not so intense nor does it last long). Perhaps it's seeing a child who is the age my angel would have been. Perhaps it's meeting someone whose due date is near when mine was. Sometimes it's being with someone who is going through a loss of her own. Sometimes it's looking at my own children, and wondering how our family dynamic would be different if those other babies had lived. Because, even though I am a whole and healthy person, my experiences of loss have made me into a different person than I would have been without them.
The most important thing to realize is that each of these stages is normal, and that so long as you are progressing through them (even slowly) then you will eventually reach acceptance, or healing. Sometimes people seem to get stuck in one stage, or to skip stages. If psychological theory is right though, you can't really skip a stage--you won't really heal and move on unless you have been through all of them.
The initial state before the cycle is received is stable, at least in terms of the subsequent reaction on hearing the bad news. Compared with the ups and downs to come, even if there is some variation, this is indeed a stable state.
And then, into the calm of this relative paradise, a bombshell bursts...
Shock stage: Initial paralysis at hearing the bad news.
Denial stage: Trying to avoid the inevitable.
Anger stage: Frustrated outpouring of bottled-up emotion.
Bargaining stage: Seeking in vain for a way out.
Depression stage: Final realization of the inevitable.
Testing stage: Seeking realistic solutions.
Acceptance stage: Finally finding the way forward.
This model is extended slightly from the original Kubler-Ross model, which does not explicitly include the Shock and Testing stages. These stages however are often useful to understanding and facilitating change.
One of the hardest things I experienced was that my husband and I often progressed through these stages at different rates, or in different ways. So he wanted to distract himself and avoid thinking about our baby at the time when I wanted to wallow in my grief and just talk about it... or he was angry at the world at a time when I was fixated on trying to just get pregnant again.
You should not feel pressured to grieve in a certain way, nor to be "all better" by a certain time. Each stage will manifest in different ways in different people, and in different kinds of circumstances, and things that are helpful for one person may not be helpful for another. However, here are some examples of how the various stages might manifest when grieving over miscarriage. (If you have something to add, please comment and I will add it here in the post.)
Shock
The news of fetal demise or the onset of physical miscarriage is overwhelming. It's common go to into an adrenaline-filled "fight or flight" mode, with moments of startling clarity (choosing whether or not to have a D&C, arranging babysitting for other children, or calling in sick to work). It's also common to completely freeze up and be unable to do or think anything. You may not be able to cry at this stage...or you may not be able to stop crying.
Denial
Trying to convince yourself that the baby didn't really die, or that you never were really pregnant. That something has been misdiagnosed. That you should get a second opinion, or a third. That if you just hurry and take the right herb or medication that everything will get better. This stage might also be called "Distraction," as some people (notably husbands) seek to avoid thinking about the loss. Sometimes this manifests in wanting to get pregnant again as soon as possible (as though you were always just pregnant). Sometimes it manifests in wanting to never get pregnant again.
Anger
Casting blame at anyone and anything that might possibly have contributed to the miscarriage. It's common to be angry at your spouse, with the rationale that they contributed the 'flaw' that caused the miscarriage, or that they are not supporting you in the way that you want them to. You might be angry at yourself, feeling that your body is broken because it did not keep the baby. You might be angry at the baby, or at God. You probably will be angry at anyone else in the world who has children, or babies, or is pregnant, or who takes those things for granted, or who has never lost a child. You will most likely be upset with anyone who is insensitive to you.
Bargaining
At this point it is normal to think about anything that you could change about the status quo, and to fixate on changing them. It's common to feel disgruntled about your marriage, to feel like if you had a different spouse things might be better (you might have more money or live in a nicer place or have more friends or better support or even, most literally, that procreating with a different partner might have avoided miscarriage). This stage may involve wanting to try to conceive again right away. You may try to 'make deals' with God (things like "I don't want to miscarry again so if I'm just going to miscarry then don't let me get pregnant again").
Depression
As the graph indicates, this is an inactive state. Many people feel lethargic when they are depressed. More than feeling 'sad' per se, they often simply feel nothing. It is common to withdraw from social activities--sometimes to avoid questions, possibly to avoid the possibility of feeling happy (many of us feel guilty over being happy about something, as though it indicates a lack of love for the child we are grieving).
Testing
Testing is the beginning of acceptance. I think it's something like learning to roller skate--with false starts and falling down. There are a few attempts to move into 'acceptance' and some of them will fail miserably, which will drop you back into depression or anger or some other stage, and then you'll have to push forward again. You may need some time to gather yourself before you feel ready to try again. Eventually however, with continued trying, you will reach the final stage of
Acceptance
This is what we refer to as 'healing.' As with any wound, there will be a scar. You will never return to being the way you were before the miscarriage, but you will find a new 'normal' and you will reach a point of being able to live life, get things done, and even be happy. You'll be able to hear pregnancy announcements, see pregnant women, or hold infants and not be depressed. You'll be able to look back at your loss without fixating on it, and you'll be able to look forward into the future, and to move into it. Sometimes people refer to this stage as 'closure' but it's broader than that. It's not closing the book on what happened, it is accepting and validating it, and moving forward with life anyway.
Sometimes things drop me back into grieving for my children (although the grief is not so intense nor does it last long). Perhaps it's seeing a child who is the age my angel would have been. Perhaps it's meeting someone whose due date is near when mine was. Sometimes it's being with someone who is going through a loss of her own. Sometimes it's looking at my own children, and wondering how our family dynamic would be different if those other babies had lived. Because, even though I am a whole and healthy person, my experiences of loss have made me into a different person than I would have been without them.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Forces For Good
I stumbled across this book today at the library. I brought it home because in the last two days ideas have begun swirling in my head. The more I think, the more the ideas come, and the more they fit together, and the more they feel good and, just, right.Forces for Good" the six practices of high-impact nonprofits is specifically directed toward those who run or support nonprofit organizations, but its message is broader than that: anyone can be a force for good in the world, and if they access and utilize a few techniques and resources then they can be a BIG force for good in the world. It's in our hands.
Ghandi said "Be the change you want to see in the world." For over three years now I have used this blog (among other things) as a place to try to educate people, to encourage people to think about things from a new perspective, and to be a force for good in the world. Suddenly a concept for a nonprofit organization has been dropped in my lap by circumstance...by coincidence...or, maybe, by God. An idea that had never occurred to me as of three days ago is suddenly consuming many of my thoughts. An opportunity to be a bigger force for good in the world. An opportunity to be an activist in a cause I really really believe in. I am doing my research, and seeking partners for this endeavor, because I'm not naive enough to think that I can do this alone. But the idea just feels so right.
Hubby and I watched a movie tonight. It was a cheesy comedy and I can't really recommend it...except that there was one little thing in it that jumped out at me: the idea of saying yes to opportunities, even intimidating ones. Finding the book + seeing the movie + this recent train of thought + my recent path of trusting and following rather than trying to control things = perhaps I'm supposed to do this?
So I suppose you will want to know, what is this nonprofit I'm thinking about? In the most simple of terms, it would be focused on miscarriage education and (more importantly) support. It would involve a network of doulas to support women though their actual miscarriages as well as postpartum. It would involve counselors (professional or peer) to help parents in their grief. It would have information to help women know what to expect of a miscarriage at various stages, and it would have a place to share stories and photos. The more I think about this idea, the more it excites me. The more I become attached to it.
Just minutes ago I realized that even the date is significant in fact. August 17 was my due date for one of the babies I lost. August 17 was the date I miscarried another baby. And this year on August 17 the cosmos aligned to push me toward something new.
Friday, April 17, 2009
5 years ago
This year the dates of the year happen to fall on the same days of the week as they did five years ago in 2004. So April 7 was a Wednesday again, and Sunday, April 12, was Easter again.
I suppose for most people this is no big deal, but for me this Resurrection Day was a sharp reminder of the poignant Easter I had five years ago.
Five years ago, on Wednesday April 7, my first pregnancy ended in my first miscarriage. I held my first angel baby in my hand and mourned his departure.
Five years ago, on Sunday April 12, I went to church and listened to the choir (with whom I had rehearsed but with whom I was too weak to perform) sing about resurrection and sacrifice and perfect love.
We parents of angels often refer to ourselves as being "in the club that nobody wants to join," and while it's true that I wish I'd never had to join, I must say that if you do have to join, there is no time like right before Easter.
I suppose for most people this is no big deal, but for me this Resurrection Day was a sharp reminder of the poignant Easter I had five years ago.
Five years ago, on Wednesday April 7, my first pregnancy ended in my first miscarriage. I held my first angel baby in my hand and mourned his departure.
Five years ago, on Sunday April 12, I went to church and listened to the choir (with whom I had rehearsed but with whom I was too weak to perform) sing about resurrection and sacrifice and perfect love.
We parents of angels often refer to ourselves as being "in the club that nobody wants to join," and while it's true that I wish I'd never had to join, I must say that if you do have to join, there is no time like right before Easter.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Types of Miscarriages & What to Expect if You're Miscarrying
It wasn’t until I sat down to write my “index” post for miscarriage that I realized that I should write this post. There are things I’ve learned that I wish I had known from the beginning, and that I want to share.
A note before I begin: the medical establishment refers to a miscarriage as an “abortion” and while the term means “ending” and is therefore accurate, it also carries other connotations which are painful for a mother who wanted to keep her baby, so I stick with the term “miscarriage.”
There are four kinds of miscarriage: spontaneous, threatened, incomplete, and missed. Here is what they mean:
Spontaneous miscarriage means that the baby has died, and the mother has begun to cramp, bleed, and expel the contents of her uterus (fetus, placenta, etc).
Threatened miscarriage means that the mother has begun to cramp and/or bleed, but the baby is still alive (verified via heartbeat or ultrasound). In these cases efforts are made to stop the miscarriage and save the baby—often bedrest or anti-labor medications are prescribed. If the same events happened after 20 weeks gestation, it would be called pre-term labor rather than a threatened miscarriage. The difference is that in the first half of pregnancy there is no way to save the baby if it comes out...in the second half of pregnancy (at least after 25 weeks) the baby has a fighting chance.
Incomplete miscarriage means just what it sounds like--the mother began to miscarry, but not everything came out. This is commonly diagnosed if she bleeds heavily for more than a few days, and can lead to anemia and other problems due to the severe and prolonged blood loss. A D&C is usually prescribed in these cases.
Missed miscarriage means that the baby has died (usually diagnosed via ultrasound when no heartbeat can be found via doppler), but that the mother have not yet actually lost the baby. In other words, her body is trying to stay pregnant, even though there is no longer a living fetus to support. In most missed miscarriages, once the mother finds out that her baby has died, she will begin to bleed within a matter of days—it’s an amazing proof of the power that the mind has over the body.
Now that you know what they mean, you should know what your options are.
With a spontaneous miscarriage, you typically don't need to worry unless you are in a lot of pain, or have excessive bleeding. You do not need to see a doctor or midwife unless you want to, although if you have begun seeing one then I'd recommend letting him/her know what is happening. Just take it easy (remember that your body is laboring and birthing, albeit in the wrong trimester, and that you cannot and should not try to carry on as normal during this time). Eat iron-rich foods to prevent anemia, drink lots of water to stay hydrated, and take a painkiller if you need or want one. There are a number of herbs that are recommended for helping with miscarriage, but that is another post.
If your bleeding is excessive or prolonged, or you may choose a D&C--I'll explain more about those in a minute.
With an incomplete miscarriage, there is usually a bit of placenta or something like that being retained inside the uterus. It prolongs the bleeding and can lead to hemmorage, anemia, or other complications if you don't get everything out. You should definitely see your doctor or midwife about this. You may be prescribed a medication which will cause your uterus to contract and hopefully get everything to move on out. Depending on the type and strength of the medication, your doctor may wish you to do this under supervision. Alternately, you may have a D&C. An incomplete miscarriage is the one time when I think a D&C is thoroughly warrented.
A D&C, or Dilation & Curettage, is which is where an OB will medically induce dilation of the cervix, and essentially vacuum everything out with a little tube. It is usually carried out with sedation or mild anesthesia--I had mine done under 'conscious sedation' and my mother had one done with just a spinal (ie, she was awake). A D&C is often followed with a little cramping and spotting, but in my experiences at least the after-effects were milder than an average period. Your OB will probably prescribe a painkiller and an antibiotic--I never needed the painkiller personally.
In the case of a missed miscarriage, you have two choices: have a D&C, or wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally. Most women seem to choose the D&C, but I personally advise against it, and here is why. While a D&C may feel easier on your body than days of bleeding, and may seem easier emotionally than having to see the products of your pregnancy, there are some things to consider.
Why I Don't Like Unnecessary D&Cs
Finally, a threatened miscarriage. With a threatened miscarriage your baby is still alive! This is key! Sometimes miscarriage is inevitable, but sometimes it is not! There is not really any way to know which way it will go, so (in my opinion) you have to move forward with the assumption that the baby can be saved. Personally, I would call my care provider. As I mentioned above, you may be prescribed labor-stopping drugs and/or bedrest. Bedrest is hotly debated: some people feel it doesn't make a difference, yet doctors continue to prescribe it. My own thought is that it might help, and it certainly won't hurt, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep my baby. There are a couple of herbs which are considered to be 'smart' about miscarriage--they help things either stay in (if they should) or clear out (if they should). I don't really understand how they work, but midwives and herbalists have been prescribing them for miscarraiges and threatened miscarriages for centuries. More about those in the herb post.
Please, if you have questions about any of this, please leave a comment and I will try to get you answers. I learned all of this "in the trenches" so to speak, and wished I had known so much of it beforehand. We cannot be afraid to talk about these things--women deserve to know what their options are so that they can make the decicions that are right for them!
A note before I begin: the medical establishment refers to a miscarriage as an “abortion” and while the term means “ending” and is therefore accurate, it also carries other connotations which are painful for a mother who wanted to keep her baby, so I stick with the term “miscarriage.”
There are four kinds of miscarriage: spontaneous, threatened, incomplete, and missed. Here is what they mean:
Spontaneous miscarriage means that the baby has died, and the mother has begun to cramp, bleed, and expel the contents of her uterus (fetus, placenta, etc).
Threatened miscarriage means that the mother has begun to cramp and/or bleed, but the baby is still alive (verified via heartbeat or ultrasound). In these cases efforts are made to stop the miscarriage and save the baby—often bedrest or anti-labor medications are prescribed. If the same events happened after 20 weeks gestation, it would be called pre-term labor rather than a threatened miscarriage. The difference is that in the first half of pregnancy there is no way to save the baby if it comes out...in the second half of pregnancy (at least after 25 weeks) the baby has a fighting chance.
Incomplete miscarriage means just what it sounds like--the mother began to miscarry, but not everything came out. This is commonly diagnosed if she bleeds heavily for more than a few days, and can lead to anemia and other problems due to the severe and prolonged blood loss. A D&C is usually prescribed in these cases.
Missed miscarriage means that the baby has died (usually diagnosed via ultrasound when no heartbeat can be found via doppler), but that the mother have not yet actually lost the baby. In other words, her body is trying to stay pregnant, even though there is no longer a living fetus to support. In most missed miscarriages, once the mother finds out that her baby has died, she will begin to bleed within a matter of days—it’s an amazing proof of the power that the mind has over the body.
Now that you know what they mean, you should know what your options are.
With a spontaneous miscarriage, you typically don't need to worry unless you are in a lot of pain, or have excessive bleeding. You do not need to see a doctor or midwife unless you want to, although if you have begun seeing one then I'd recommend letting him/her know what is happening. Just take it easy (remember that your body is laboring and birthing, albeit in the wrong trimester, and that you cannot and should not try to carry on as normal during this time). Eat iron-rich foods to prevent anemia, drink lots of water to stay hydrated, and take a painkiller if you need or want one. There are a number of herbs that are recommended for helping with miscarriage, but that is another post.
If your bleeding is excessive or prolonged, or you may choose a D&C--I'll explain more about those in a minute.
With an incomplete miscarriage, there is usually a bit of placenta or something like that being retained inside the uterus. It prolongs the bleeding and can lead to hemmorage, anemia, or other complications if you don't get everything out. You should definitely see your doctor or midwife about this. You may be prescribed a medication which will cause your uterus to contract and hopefully get everything to move on out. Depending on the type and strength of the medication, your doctor may wish you to do this under supervision. Alternately, you may have a D&C. An incomplete miscarriage is the one time when I think a D&C is thoroughly warrented.
A D&C, or Dilation & Curettage, is which is where an OB will medically induce dilation of the cervix, and essentially vacuum everything out with a little tube. It is usually carried out with sedation or mild anesthesia--I had mine done under 'conscious sedation' and my mother had one done with just a spinal (ie, she was awake). A D&C is often followed with a little cramping and spotting, but in my experiences at least the after-effects were milder than an average period. Your OB will probably prescribe a painkiller and an antibiotic--I never needed the painkiller personally.
In the case of a missed miscarriage, you have two choices: have a D&C, or wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally. Most women seem to choose the D&C, but I personally advise against it, and here is why. While a D&C may feel easier on your body than days of bleeding, and may seem easier emotionally than having to see the products of your pregnancy, there are some things to consider.
Why I Don't Like Unnecessary D&Cs
- Seeing the blood (and yes, possibly a tiny fetus) is hard. Trust me it's really hard. In my own experience though, having a tiny someone to say goodbye to is better than having nothing at all.
- The forced dilation of the cervix can weaken it. If you have 2 or more D&Cs you will be at an increased risk for incompetent cervix, miscarriage, or preterm labor for future pregnancies. Your doctor most likely will not tell you this until you are in that subsequent pregnancy and he/she looks at your history and announces that you are high risk!
- There is potential for injury during the D&C (cutting or puncturing the uterine wall for example).
- Sometimes a missed miscarriage is mis-diagnosed. In other words, sometimes they miss seeing the baby, or the heartbeat...sometimes they tell you that the baby has died or that there is no baby and they are wrong. Sometimes there is a baby and it is just fine. Sometimes there were twins and only one has died. A D&C is what they call it if you wanted the baby, but if you didn't want the baby they'd have called it a 'suction abortion.' It's the same thing--and no, a living baby won't survive it. So again, I recommend waiting and letting nature take its course, because even the most advanced medical practitioners can make mistakes sometimes. (If you'd like to read a whole bunch of stories, visit The Misdiagnosed Miscarriage.)
Finally, a threatened miscarriage. With a threatened miscarriage your baby is still alive! This is key! Sometimes miscarriage is inevitable, but sometimes it is not! There is not really any way to know which way it will go, so (in my opinion) you have to move forward with the assumption that the baby can be saved. Personally, I would call my care provider. As I mentioned above, you may be prescribed labor-stopping drugs and/or bedrest. Bedrest is hotly debated: some people feel it doesn't make a difference, yet doctors continue to prescribe it. My own thought is that it might help, and it certainly won't hurt, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep my baby. There are a couple of herbs which are considered to be 'smart' about miscarriage--they help things either stay in (if they should) or clear out (if they should). I don't really understand how they work, but midwives and herbalists have been prescribing them for miscarraiges and threatened miscarriages for centuries. More about those in the herb post.
~~~~~
Please, if you have questions about any of this, please leave a comment and I will try to get you answers. I learned all of this "in the trenches" so to speak, and wished I had known so much of it beforehand. We cannot be afraid to talk about these things--women deserve to know what their options are so that they can make the decicions that are right for them!
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